


Depression

by witchy_words



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depression, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Loving Dean Winchester, No Smut, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchy_words/pseuds/witchy_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader is depressed so Dean helps her feel loved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Depression

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first fic and I'm super proud of it, this is the first in what will hopefully be a long line of Hurt/comfort SPN one-shots. The Supernatural characters really helped pull me through my depression, and I'm hoping they can help you too. Enjoy :)

Depression sucked. Even with everything you did to make it less painful, sometimes it snuck up on you and pulled you down. Today was one of those days when you just lay immobile on your bed in the bunker, wishing the mattress would simply swallow you whole. You felt the weight of your worries pushing down on your chest, suffocating you. There wasn’t a single cell in your body that didn’t ache with sadness. Even as Dean called your name time and time again, you couldn’t summon the energy to react. He knocked gently on your door and entered apprehensively when you gave no response. Dean’s face fell when he saw you flopped listlessly on your bed. 

“Oh, baby,” he said, closing the distance between you. “What’s wrong?” You raised your eyes to see his face. His freckled brow was drawn together in concern as he gazed down on your crumpled form. 

“Everything?” you sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel good. Everything hurts,” you explained, “and I just don’t feel good.” 

“Oh, Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He situated himself on the bed next to you, and you pulled you knees to your chest. Dean wrapped his strong arms around you, and you dropped your head to rest on his shoulder. As he silently cradled you against him, you closed your eyes and inhaled his masculine, comforting scent. The combination of gunpowder, leather, generic soap, and that musky Dean smell surrounding you filled you with a sense of safety and belonging. 

It was then that the unshed tears began to burn behind your eyes. You tried desperately to stop them from falling, but a single salty tear escaped and rolled down your cheek onto Dean’s flannel clad shoulder before you could catch it. His grasp on you tightened and he maneuvered you around so that you sat in his lap.

“Please don’t cry,” Dean whispered huskily. He began running one comforting hand up and down your back and tangled the other in your hair. The combination of his words and tender touch only triggered an uncontrollable outpour of tears. You buried your face in his soft shirt, and he held you as sobs wracked your body. No matter what he did, you just could not stop crying. 

When you finally pulled yourself together enough to look up at him, Dean affectionately wiped the tears and smudged makeup from your splotchy visage. Then he took your face in his hands softly, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

 

“Listen to me, Y/n. I know you feel awful, and that sucks. But you have to remember this. Sammy and I are here for you; we’ve got your back. You are not alone in this. Don’t ever be afraid to come to us for anything.”

“Okay,” you replied in a small, choked voice. 

“Okay, beautiful,” Dean confirmed with a gentle smile. He shifted and pulled you down onto the mattress so he was curled up on the bed with you in a tangle of limbs. You lay like that for a long time, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. The last thing you remembered before a deep, dreamless sleep claimed you was Dean whispering an almost inaudible “I love you” and kissing the top of your head. A tiny smile pulled at the corners of your lips before you finally drifted off.


End file.
